Why Don't You Stay With Me?
by go-for-santa
Summary: It was a mistake, really. An innocent night out between two friends, nothing else. But all it took was a sideways glance, a sharp intake of breath, and just like that, the group's perfect, golden world was turned upside down and reduced to nothing but powder and rubble. / High school AU, Career-centric.
1. Prologue

Clove Kentwell, Cato Hadley, Glimmer Belcourt, Marvel Brodeur. The crowned princes and princesses of Panem Preperatory Academy. They've been on top practically since Pre-K, and for good reason.

Clove Kentwell. Dangerously smart with a tongue as sharp as her mind, Clove is a talented and dedicated gymnast and straight-A student, a shoe-in for valedictorian. She's the most reserved out of the four, and it's common knowledge that she is not somebody to cross.

Cato Hadley. Traditional golden boy with a heart to match. In true cliché, Cato is captain of the school's undefeated football and lacrosse teams, and known around the school for his charming smile and laidback attitude. He's more intelligent than he may seem, up for salutatorian.

Glimmer Belcourt. She could pass for literal royalty if she wanted to, with a beautiful face and perfect poise. Bubbly and kind, Glimmer is always there to lend a helping hand, whether it be playing matchmaker or giving fashion advice. She certainly isn't the typical primadonna-queen-bee, and is a member of the school's student council.

Marvel Brodeur. He transferred to Panem Prep during sophomore year, and immediately found his home amongst the "Golden Trio." Charming and flirtatious, Marvel is the class-clown type, never one to take himself (or anybody else) too seriously. He's on the school's hockey and lacrosse teams.

For a while, everything was going perfectly for these four friends. Senior year was off to a great start, and the group was as close as ever. It seemed that nothing could go wrong, and they believed it.

But of course, nothing gold can stay.

It was a mistake, really. An innocent night out between two friends, nothing else. But all it took was a sideways glance, a sharp intake of breath, and just like that, the group's perfect, golden world was turned upside down and reduced to nothing but powder and rubble.

But we'll start from the beginning. September 12th. The first day of senior year.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **So here's the deal: I've been wanting to write a high school AU about the Careers for so long now, and I was finally struck by some inspiration while driving home from work the other night—special thank you to the song _Sidekick_ by Walk The Moon—so here we are! Let me give you the run-down.**

 **THIS IS JUST THE PROLOGUE. Actual chapters will be much longer, I promise. I'm just setting the stage here, building suspense and hype and whatnot.**

 **The main endgame ship is Clato, because I can't resist. It won't seem like it for a while, as it'll _definitely_ be slow-burn, but I promise that it will happen. I'll feature other characters as well, actually pretty much all of them. Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Foxface ("Jackie Finch" in this), Thresh, Finnick, Annie, and Johanna are guaranteed, but definitely expect some other cameos as well.**

 **So, what do you think? I'm really, really excited about this, and I hope that you are too. Definitely leave a review with your feelings about the whole thing! Also, shameless plug, but check out my other story, _Ask the Careers!,_ if you want to! It's a fun little thing for me to do, but I haven't been getting many questions lately, meaning it's difficult to keep the story going.**

 **So yeah. See you guys soon, hopefully!**


	2. The Beginning

Clove hops around her bedroom, some Bleachers song blaring from her speaker as she gets ready for the day. _"You steal the air out of my lungs, you make me feel it,"_ she sings quietly along, shimmying into the school-mandated skirt of her uniform and buttoning her white shirt. Her maroon blazer rests on the chair in front of her vanity, which she slips into easily.

The notification of a text message interrupts the song, and she picks up her phone to see that it's from Glimmer.

 ** _b there in 10 beyotch_**

Clove rolls her eyes at the message, but still smiles fondly as she types back a reply.

 ** _don't get pulled over this time_**

She places her phone down and sits in front of her mirror, eyeing the array of makeup products. She hasn't broken out in a while, so concealer is unnecessary. Besides, she likes her freckles. So she settles for neatening up her brows and applying mascara, then snaps the wand back into place before reaching for her hairbrush and taking on her mane of bedhead.

She's heading down the stairs ten minutes later, dark hair pulled into a loose braid that falls over her shoulder. Outside, she hears a car honk and knows that it must be Glimmer. Grabbing an apple from the kitchen, Clove shoulders her backpack and walks out the door, shutting it carefully behind her so not to wake her father.

Walking quickly to Glimmer's (very expensive) car, she slips into the passenger seat and places her backpack at her feet.

"You ready for the best senior year ever?" Glimmer asks with a grin, her perfect blonde curls bouncing as she turns to face Clove.

"It amazes me how much of a morning person you are," says Clove, placing her apple between her teeth and buckling her seat belt as Glimmer backs out of her driveway. Glimmer laughs and takes off down the street, leaving Clove's house behind.

"Seriously, though, this is _our year,_ Clove. No drama, no problems, nothing. Just college acceptances and awesome parties and endless time with friends. I have a good feeling about it, I do."

Clove can't help but smile at her friend's positive attitude. "Let's hope so," she says, reaching to turn the radio up.

Their next stop is only two minutes away, on the other end of Clove's street. Glimmer pulls into the driveway and, as customary, honks her horn. It's only another minute until the front door is opening and Cato is stepping out of his house, his backpack slung over one massive shoulder and carrying a duffel bag—no doubt his football gear—in his hand. Clove can see his sideways smile from the car as he waves, and she snorts.

Cato files into the back seat, dropping his stuff beside him. "Good morning, ladies," he says smoothly, leaning forward and giving Glimmer a quick kiss.

"Ew, PDA," Clove says, wrinkling her nose. Cato playfully leans toward her, and she blocks him with a hand against his face as she pushes him backwards. The three of them laugh as Glimmer backs out of Cato's driveway and heads toward their next stop.

Clove has been friends with Cato practically since birth. Their mothers were great friends growing up, and living half a mile down the street has its perks. They met Glimmer in kindergarten, and Glimmer and Cato began dating halfway through their junior year at Panem Prep. They're cute, Clove thinks, but a little cliche. Football captain and queen bee. Still, as long as they're happy, Clove is, too.

 _"Please_ change the station," Cato whines from the backseat. "I don't know how much of this electronic-indie-alt shit I can take."

Clove and Glimmer gasp in faux offense. "You take that back!" Glimmer demands.

"I am literally begging you."

Clove smirks and turns to Glimmer. "Hey Glim, I feel like the radio's turned way too low. Don't you agree?"

"Oh, yeah," says Glimmer seriously, nodding her head as she flips on her left directional to turn onto the main road. "Definitely need it louder."

Clove cranks the volume, Glimmer rolls the windows down, and Cato complains until they're pulling up to Marvel's house five minutes later. Their friend practically sprints out the door, calling something out over his shoulder before ambling over to Glimmer's car, slipping into the backseat behind Clove. "Hey, I love this song!"

Cato groans, and Glimmer and Clove burst out laughing.

* * *

Panem Preparatory Academy was founded 74 years ago, an elite and exclusive private school for trust fund kids and their legacies. It's this massive, fancy-looking brick building on a huge campus, with perfect lawns and freshly-paved roads. Truly, it looks like a college.

Clove thinks it's a bit much.

Still, she's a legacy. She may not be wealthy like Glimmer, but her mother was a top student at the school, and therefore Clove was able to follow in her footsteps. She was given some academic scholarship for her grades. Cato's in the same position as she is—both of his parents were well-known students and his GPA is nearly as good as hers, so he got off the hook, too.

"Well, here we are," says Glimmer, maneuvering into a parking spot and turning off her car. "You guys ready for this?"

"Let's make a fucking entrance!" Marvel hollers, and the four of them cheer before exiting the car.

If this was some dumb teen movie, they'd be walking in slow motion, their hair and clothes blown back dramatically by an invisible gust of wind as students and teachers alike stared on with awe and respect. At least, that's what Glimmer always says. Clove thinks it's funny. Regardless, they push through the large double doors and walk into the first hallway, their heads held high.

"Glimmer, hey!"

"Cato, how's it going, man?"

"How was your summer, Clove?"

"Marvel, new haircut?"

That's something that Clove grudgingly likes about Panem Prep. Contrary to popular stereotype, most of the students are down-to-earth and friendly. There are specific friend groups, sure, but no solidified cliques. It's an admittedly good environment.

The group greets everybody as they walk. When they reach the main staircase, they part ways—Glimmer and Marvel to their shared homeroom on the second floor, and Cato and Clove toward their respective ones on the current floor. Glimmer kisses Cato and hugs Clove, whispering a quick, _"This is our year, remember?"_ into her ear before waving one more time and following Marvel up the stairs.

"She's so positive," Clove muses as Cato falls into stride beside her. They head to her locker, where she enters the combination and drops her backpack into the crook of her elbow as she rummages for unneeded binders.

"She really is," Cato agrees, then shrugs. "I can respect that."

"Of course _you_ can," says Clove with a smirk, turning to look up at him as she closes her locker and shoulders her backpack.

"Well, she _is_ my girlfriend."

"Oh my god, really?" says Clove, feigning surprise. "Wait, that's like, _so_ cute. I can't believe you guys didn't tell me!"

Cato grins and shoves her shoulder lightly. Clove only laughs and bids him a goodbye as she enters Mr. Abernathy's room and he continues down the hall to his own locker and homeroom.

She slips into the room just as the final bell rings, signaling the start of the day. The start of senior year. _This is our year._

She smiles.

* * *

 **Yay, first chapter! I'm literally so excited for this, you don't even know. I _adore_ high school AUs.**

 **Okay, so anyway. Elephant in the room. Yes, there is Glato. I know, it makes me die inside, too. But it's fine! Remember, endgame is Clato. Just give it some time.**

 **I know this chapter's a little on the short side, but my goal here is quality over quantity, if that makes sense. I feel like sometimes I spend too much time trying to hit a certain word count, which can make me lose interest. For this story I'll be writing for my enjoyment, meaning chapter length will likely fluctuate, but also that updates will probably be more frequent. Still, expect every chapter to exceed 1,000-1,500 words.**

 **So yeah! This is going to be drama, drama, drama. Very unrealistic high school portrayal. But hey, sometimes you need a nice dosage of _cliche._ Makes the world go 'round. I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Leave a review, if you want to!**

 **Also, if you're also a reader of _Ask the Careers!,_ the next chapter will be up later tonight.**


	3. Betting and Odds

This is _so_ not her year.

Maybe it's her own fault for taking on so many AP classes, but she wasn't exactly expecting five hours' worth of homework on the _first day of school._

"Dude, _screw_ Abernathy's homework. It's AP physics, not fucking NASA," she groans at lunch, dropping her forehead onto her folded arms, salad forgotten.

Glimmer pats her shoulder sympathetically. "There, there, Clo. It must be hard being so smart."

Clove looks up and narrows her eyes at her friend. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

Glimmer only shrugs, turning back to her own salad. Clove huffs and glances up to see a smirking Cato. She pokes her tongue out at him. He didn't bother with AP physics this year, apparently too worried that taking so many AP classes would run too much interference with football, or whatever. Clove loves the kid, but seriously? He's one of the smartest people she knows. He could have handled it.

Maybe she just doesn't want to suffer alone.

"On the bright side," pipes Finnick from beside Cato, "he'll probably be too hung over tomorrow morning to even remember assigning it. You've got an extra day, minimum."

Clove snorts, because it's true. It's common knowledge around the school that Mr. Abernathy is a certified drunk. There are rumors about it—some say he lost his entire family in a house fire, others say his wife died. No matter the reason though, he never fails to show up to class hungover, or at least slightly buzzed. It's sad, really.

"I guess you're right," Clove muses.

"Of course I am," says Finnick, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "I'm a goddamn genius."

"Keep telling yourself that, bud," says Thresh, his massive shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. Clove grins as Annie rolls her eyes.

"Nice ego, Odair," comes a voice, and Johanna Mason slides into the seat beside him. Swiftly, she snags a French fry from Finnick's tray, much to his annoyance.

"Always a pleasure, Johanna," he mumbles.

Clove thinks she might be one of the only people who _actually_ likes Johanna. The other girl is known around school for being, well, a bitch. But Clove can respect it—Johanna just doesn't care. She's always honest, and in Clove's eyes, the people who can't handle honesty are a bit weak. Sure, Johanna can be a bit _much_ sometimes, but overall Clove finds her brutal honesty and carefree nature hilarious.

"So, anyway," says Johanna, learning forward and ignoring Finnick's comment. "I heard that the Everdeen girl, the junior, is in some kind of tragic, summer-love triangle with Gale Hawthorne and that new kid, Peter or something. Who's got money on who?"

"There's a new kid?" asks Marvel. "Since when?"

"Since this year, dipshit."

Glimmer hums. "Yeah, I've seen him. He's adorable. I think she'll go for him. They're the same age, first of all, and he's got that whole 'innocent' vibe that totally offsets Katniss's 'mysterious' thing."

Clove shakes her head. "I don't know, I always thought she'd end up with Gale. Who cares that he's a senior? They've been best friends since they were born, practically. They know each other, you know?"

"Doesn't Gale like that Madge girl, though?" asks Cato.

"Other way around, I think," says Clove with a frown. She's caught the mayor's daughter watching Gale Hawthorne many a time.

"No, I heard she's a lesbian," says Glimmer.

"How would you know that?" asks Finnick, waggling his eyebrows.

Glimmer shrugs. "Rumor mill?"

"Well, I think they'd be awkward together," says Finnick. "Katniss and what's-his-name. Gale's way more suave."

"You did _not_ just use the word 'suave,'" says Clove. Finnick winks.

"My money's on Peeta," says Annie. "That's his name, by the way, not Peter. I've got study hall with him, he seems sweet."

Thresh chimes in with a vote for Gale, Marvel for Peeta, Cato for Gale, and Johanna for Gale.

"So, what's that then?" asks Johanna. "Three for Peeta and four for Gale? This is like a _Twilight_ situation. Team Gale versus Team Peeta. Should I make t-shirts?"

* * *

The drive home from school is only slightly quieter, as they're down one because Cato has football practice every day after school for the entire season. Marvel likes to complain about it from his spot in the back seat, but his whining falls on deaf ears. "You could totally just take the bus, if you want," says Glimmer every time. That usually shuts him up.

Once Marvel has been dropped off at his swanky mansion, Glimmer turns to Clove. "Okay, so we need to go homecoming dress shopping, like, immediately."

Clove's eyes widen as Glimmer backs out of Marvel's driveway and tears down the street. "Glim, seriously? It's _literally_ the first day of school."

"Yeah, but I want to start early! And dress shopping is _so_ fun! Do you think Cato would be okay with pink?"

Clove sighs in exasperation. Honestly, she isn't even surprised. Glimmer is totally the glitz-and-glam type, a true testament to her name, and loves anything that requires formal attire. _Especially_ school dances.

"I mean, I'm sure he'll be okay with anything since it's you," says Clove honestly. "His masculinity isn't that fragile, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind wearing a pink tie or dress shirt or something. Why, is that the color you want this year?"

Glimmer nods. "I've already started a Pinterest board. Don't judge."

"Glim, I'm saying this because I love you, but I am judging _so_ hard."

"Oh, shut up," says Glimmer, and they laugh. "Seriously, though, will you come with me this weekend? Even if you don't know what you want yet. I just love shopping, you know that. And obviously I love hanging out with my best friend, too."

Clove shakes her head, still smiling. "Fine. We can go after I get out of gymnastics on Saturday."

Glimmer squeals. "Yes! I'm so excited."

Clove laughs and reaches to turn the music up. The rest of the car ride consists of an AJR singalong with the windows down and a pit stop for iced coffee, until finally Glimmer is turning into Clove's driveway and Clove is hopping out of the car. She sighs when she sees her father's car in the driveway, meaning he's still home—his third day in a row missing work—but turns to Glimmer with a smile.

"Alright, I'll text you later."

"Looking forward to it!"

She watches as her friend's BMW disappears down the street before heading inside, climbing the worn wooden steps of the porch and unlocking the door. When she steps inside, she's unsurprisingly met with the smell of liquor that hangs in the air. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she enters the living room to see her father passed out on the couch, some cop show playing out on the television. She doesn't really feel like waking the bear, so she settles for switching off the TV and collecting a few of the empty, discarded bottles to recycle.

With a sigh, she wonders when she stopped becoming surprised.

* * *

"Nice job, Clove, awesome dismount!"

Clove drops her arms and smiles at Enobaria, her coach. She's been practicing her new bars routine for over a month now, trying to prepare for the upcoming meet. She's been on her game today, letting herself twist and soar from bar to bar. She still has to practice her beam and floor routines, but she isn't as worried about those.

"Alright ladies, take five," Enobaria calls, and the group of girls move to the wall where their bags are lined up. Clove is the first one there, immediately sitting down and beginning to stretch.

"Hey, you're on fire today," says Delly, sitting beside Clove.

"Oh, thanks, you too," says Clove, taking a sip of her water. "Your vault is killer, Dell. There's no way you aren't getting first at the meet."

Delly beams before speaking again. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something. _Someone_ , really."

Clove shrugs. "Yeah, go for it."

"Peeta Mellark."

Clove frowns. _Peeta?_ "Sorry, Dell, who—"

"He goes to your school now! Panem Prep, right? Junior?"

"Oh, right!" says Clove, suddenly remembering the conversation with her friends at lunch. "Yeah, I've heard about him. Haven't met him yet, though. Why?"

"He used to go to my school," says Delly. "We're good friends. I just figured I'd ask if you've seen him around or know how he's doing."

Clove nods, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind one ear. "Yeah, I'm not really sure. Different grades and all, you know? But I've got this friend, Annie, who's got a class with him. Says he's sweet."

Delly nods, still grinning. "Yeah, he's the sweetest. We grew up together. I used to tell people that he was my brother, because we've both got the blonde hair and blue eyes."

Clove has never seen Peeta before, but she's suddenly picturing a miniature Cato running around the halls of Panem Prep. Blond hair and blue eyes are usually what she associates with Cato, and where she's never met Peeta, it's all she can think of now. She has to fight a laugh at the thought of it. "That's cute," she tells Delly. "I'll keep an eye out for him, yeah?"

Delly nods. "I'd like that. I just worry, you know?"

"I understand."

The air is suddenly split by Enobaria's whistle, and they're up and moving.

* * *

 **Still not a whole lot going on here, but it's early. I'm just setting the stage a bit, you know? There'll be more fun drama later on, I swear.**

 **Ugh, I've had the longest past few days. Lots of fun and lots of friends, though, so I'm really not complaining. Can you believe it's already almost February?**

 **Anyway, what did you think of the latest chapter? What would you like to see more of in the future? Leave a review and let me know what you thought! I'll see you guys next time :)**


	4. Revelations

Shopping with Glimmer, Clove thinks, is just about on-par with Theseus entering the Labyrinth. She never knows what to expect, what's waiting for her around every turn. Will Glimmer want smoothies next? Or will she want to check out the cell phone case kiosk? It's a mystery (and an adventure) every time. Usually Clove just goes along for the ride.

Dress shopping, though, _that's_ a whole different ballgame. They've been at the same store for two hours now, and at this point, Clove can't resist texting Cato.

 ** _your gf is crazy_**

The response is almost instantaneous.

 ** _I like crazy_**

Clove rolls her eyes.

 ** _clearly_**

"Hey, Clo?" Glimmer calls, poking her head up over a clothing rack. "I think I found some that you'll like."

Clove slips her phone back into her pocket and makes her way over to where Glimmer is waiting. Her friend is holding about four different dresses in her hands, and Clove raises an eyebrow. "Those are nice."

"Right?" says Glimmer. "I totally think the darker colors are more _you._ So there are these maroon ones, this black one, and this blue one. Try them on!"

Clove silently thanks her quick reflexes when the dresses are tossed at her and she manages to catch them all. Already, Glimmer has her hands full with three more dresses for herself to try on. Clove follows her to the fitting rooms and selects the stall next to Glimmer's.

She starts with the black dress, sleeveless and fitted at the top, flaring out at the waist until the hem reaches just above her knees. She wrinkles her nose at the ill fit; the dress is clearly designed for someone taller and bustier. Someone like, well, Glimmer. Still, she steps out of the stall and meets Glimmer at the mirror. "I don't think I like this one," she says.

Glimmer looks at her in the reflection and frowns. She, of course, looks stunning in an airy pink number. "Yeah, too dark with your hair."

Clove doesn't really consider herself an insecure person, not really. But standing next to Glimmer, she can sometimes feel so... _inferior._ And that's probably bad, as Glimmer is her best friend, but she can't help that little pang of envy for Glimmer's naturally sunkissed skin, long legs, shimmering blonde hair, and perfect curves. It's no wonder Cato likes her.

She tries not to let it get to her though, and only shrugs. "Yeah. I'll try on the others, maybe they'll look better."

"Oh! Save the blue one for last," calls Glimmer. "That one's my favorite."

She doesn't hate the maroon ones as much. The first is tightly fitted and appears to wrap around her body, giving the illusion of slight curves, which Clove likes. The second is a similar style to the black one she tried, but fits better at the top. Still, she isn't sold on either of them. She wore red last year, and doesn't necessarily want a repeat.

She tries on the blue one last, per Glimmer's request. Her friend is already waiting for her at the mirror, wearing another dress that Clove would file somewhere between "pink" and "champagne."

When Glimmer turns to Clove, her jaw drops.

"Oh my god, you're _so_ hot."

Clove rolls her eyes and strikes an exaggerated pose before joining Glimmer at the mirror. "I do like this one," she admits, and she means it.

The dress is another tight fit, made of dark blue velvet that almost appears black, until the light catches it. The spaghetti straps and lace-up back show enough skin without being too revealing, and the hem ends just at mid-thigh. It's sexy without being promiscuous, and Clove loves it.

"That's totally _you_ , Clo," says Glimmer. "Like, it's simple in a way, but _so_ pretty. And hot. You're going to have boys _all_ over you if you buy that thing."

"My mission in life," Clove quips with a smile, and Glimmer waves a hand dismissively.

"Just look at us," she says. "Ugh, I can totally see it now. We're going to be those hot seniors that people can't take their eyes off of. I love it!"

Clove laughs. "Okay, yeah, we look good. Should we buy them?"

"Um, _yes._ "

"And then we can go back to your house and binge _Brooklyn 99?_ "

Glimmer clucks her tongue. "Silly Clove, we still have to buy shoes!"

"Oh my god."

* * *

Clove likes being at Glimmer's house. It's big, but still homey and comfortable. She especially likes being there when the rest of the group is, too. Everything feels like it's okay when she's with her three best friends, and she wouldn't trade it for the world. Like right now, camped out on the floor in Glimmer's finished basement, with various snacks and candy laid out as they watch old movies and talk about school.

"I honestly never understood what possessed them to cast Judd Nelson as a high schooler," complains Marvel around a mouthful of popcorn. "Like, John Bender literally looks like he could be thirty years old."

"I mean, he _is_ the criminal," says Clove. "Maybe it was like, intentional? He's probably been held back a lot."

"No way," says Cato. "They weren't thinking of technicalities like that. They just didn't know how to cast."

"Okay, this movie is almost thirty-five years old. Who cares?" groans Glimmer from where she leans against Cato. "Can we _please_ just enjoy this without analyzing every little detail?"

"You're no fun," teases Cato, tightening his arm around her. Clove looks to Marvel, who silently fake-vomits, and snorts.

"How's gymnastics been going, anyway, Clove?" asks Cato, and Clove shrugs.

"Not bad. My bars routine is almost perfect, which is the one I've been having the most trouble with."

"Yeah, it's because she's so tiny," snickers Marvel. "Can't even reach the bars."

Clove throws a pillow at him.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you can't sleep over tonight?" asks Glimmer with a pout.

Clove shakes her head. "You know why I can't, Glim."

"Oh, I know. Give me a hug, anyway."

Clove complies, thanking Glimmer for taking her out shopping, before meeting Cato at the large front door. "Ready?" he asks, and she nods as they head out into the warm September night. She climbs into the passenger seat of his old truck and he joins her, starting the engine and backing out of Glimmer's driveway.

"Thanks again for the ride," says Clove. She always feels bad leeching off of her friends for rides. She has her license, but no car to use it with, so she's stuck asking other people to drive her to and fro.

"You know you don't need to thank me," says Cato. "You're my best friend and we _literally_ live on the same street. I'd be kind of a piece of shit if I _didn't_ drive you home."

"You're a piece of shit, anyway."

"Fair enough."

The ride continues in silence for a few more moments, the only sound being some god-awful country song coming softly from Cato's radio. They're stopped at a red light when he suddenly speaks up. "So, is your dad... you know."

Clove sighs, rubbing her forehead with her hand and staring out the window. "Yeah," she says. "Came home the other day to bottles everywhere. He's not even trying to hide it anymore."

"Clove—"

"It's fine, Cato," she says, noticing the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "You know he doesn't do anything to me. Just sleeps. I'm more worried about the fact that he hasn't been going to work. We barely have enough money to keep me at Panem; at this point I don't even know if I'll be able to go to col—"

"You're going to college, Clove," says Cato adamantly. She avoids his gaze. "You're the smartest person I know, okay? They've got all of that financial aid shit that can help you out. There are ways."

She takes a deep breath, hating herself for the fact that she can feel tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She's Clove Kentwell. She doesn't cry. Screw college and screw deadbeat dads.

"I know," she says. "I'll be fine."

Cato sighs. "I know you will be," he says. "I just can't help but worry." And then he places a large hand on her knee, an act of comfort, and Clove is taken aback by the way her stomach flips and her heart beats out of rhythm at the contact. "Just remember that you can talk to me about anything, okay?" he says.

Clove finally looks up, right into his blue eyes, and swallows nervously. "Yeah," she says, her voice clipped.

And then the light turns green, and the moment is gone.

* * *

 **Here, have some Clato! Revel in the angst!** **Poor Clove is starting to catch all kinds of feelings. Even more on that in the next chapter. Actually, as of right now the next chapter is the last one under 2,000 words, because the story really picks up after that one. Chapters 5 and 6 are well over 2,000 words, so that's super fun! Hopefully I can keep up that momentum :)**

 **Anyway, the only good thing about sick days is that I've got lots of time to write. The sick part, not so good. Oh, well. Hope you guys liked this chapter, now that the drama's starting. The story's really kicking off now, and I can't wait for you guys to read more! See you next time!**

 **P.S. To address a guest review I received a couple of chapters ago** — **this story _will_ be Clato, but will _not_ be Glarvel. I personally don't ship Glarvel all that much, and I've got some pretty big plans for Miss Glimmer, anyway. You'll just have to wait and see ;)**


	5. Mixed Feelings

She doesn't like this. She really, really, _really_ doesn't like this.

Her right leg bounces up and down at lightning speed as she sits at her desk in AP literature, tightly grasping her pen in one hand while the other clenches into a fist. Ms. Trinket is droning on and on about _Hamlet,_ but all Clove can focus on is Cato, who sits directly in front of her. She stares at the back of his head, at the way his blond hair swirls counter-clockwise from the center. He looks ridiculously large sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and drumming his own pencil on the desk's surface.

She spent the rest of Saturday night and almost all of Sunday thinking about Cato and what happened in his car, when he placed his hand on her knee. How she reacted. It was strange, the way she felt as though she had been struck by lightning. Her heart rate didn't return to normal until _after_ he dropped her off and she was safely inside of her house, leaning against the door and letting an exasperated sigh escape her.

"Ms. Kentwell, what about you?" She's distracted from her thoughts by Ms. Trinket, who's got her attention right on her. "Which theme do you believe applies to the appearance of King Hamlet's Ghost?"

"Uh, death and decay," says Clove quickly. Ms. Trinket nods grudgingly, seeming annoyed that she wasn't able to catch Clove off-guard. She turns to victimize some other student, and Clove lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Of course, Cato just _has_ to turn around in his desk to face her. He shoots her that charming, lopsided grin and tilts his head slightly. "She almost got you there, Clover," he says lowly.

She kicks the back of his chair. "You know how I feel about _Clover,_ " she hisses.

"I know. I just love getting a rise out of you," he says, and the kid _honest-to-god winks_ at her before turning back around to face the front.

It's all Clove can do not to snap the pen that's still gripped tightly in her hand. Her nails are digging into her palms as she glares at the back of his head once again. Briefly, she wonders if he knows what he's doing. If he's somehow figured out that she's all conflicted by the fact that she's suddenly _attracted_ to her best friend's boyfriend, her neighbor-slash-best-friend since birth.

She folds her arms on her desk and lets her head drop onto them, stifling a groan. God, why does life suddenly have to be so _complicated?_

"Ms. Kentwell, chin _up_ , please!"

* * *

She's pretty quiet all day. She thinks her frustration must be written on her face or something too, because a lot of students seem to be avoiding her. _Smart kids,_ she thinks. Everybody knows not to cross her on a bad day.

Well, almost everyone.

"Jeez, ease up on that salad, tiger," says Finnick at lunch, his eyebrows raised. "It's just lettuce, you don't have to stab it like it murdered your family."

"I'll stab _you_ like you murdered my family," says Clove, pointing her fork at him. He puts his hands up in surrender.

She turns back to her meal, pushing the lettuce around with the fork. She doesn't have much of an appetite, but knows that she needs to eat. Her dad hasn't gone grocery shopping in weeks, and she refuses to go to gymnastics later with no energy.

"Hey, Clove's having a rough time today," says Cato. "Trinket called her out like three times in lit earlier."

Johanna snorts. "Honestly, I can't blame you for zoning out like that. Gloss Devereux is in your class, isn't he? I'd get in trouble for staring at him too. Kid's _hot._ "

Clove shakes her head and smiles slightly at Johanna, and Cato scoffs. "Gloss is an asshole," he says. "Only cares about looking good. He's got no substance."

"Yeah, well it works for him," says Johanna dreamily, and Clove laughs. She doesn't bother denying anything. It's true that Gloss is in her class, and that he's _very_ attractive, but he was the last thing on her mind today. Not that anybody needs to know that.

Cato mumbles something under his breath, but Clove doesn't have much time to dwell on it because Glimmer is suddenly slipping into the seat beside her. "What'd I miss?" she asks breezily, pushing blonde curls away from her face.

"Nothing much, just Clove's _massive_ crush on Gloss Devereux," says Thresh.

Clove scowls at the other boy. "I do _not_ have a crush on Gloss. Like Cato said, the guy's totally full of it."

Glimmer hums. "Shame. You guys would probably be cute together. Your smarts could totally balance out his, um... lack, thereof? Hey, what's he doing taking an AP class, anyway?"

"Trying to get closer to Clove," says Marvel with a shit-eating grin. Clove throws a grape at him, nailing him square in the eye.

"What is it, guys, pick-on-Clove day?" she groans, placing a hand on her forehead. The table laughs.

Eventually the conversation disperses into different, smaller ones, and Clove turns to face Glimmer when she feels her friend's hand on her shoulder. "Seriously, what's the matter?" she says. "I know we're all joking around and shit, but something's bothering you. You know you can talk to me about anything."

Clove purses her lips at Glimmer's words, eerily similar to the ones Cato spoke to her only two days ago. "I'm fine," she lies. "Just went to bed kind of late last night. Got a wicked headache right now."

Glimmer frowns. "Okay," she says, and Clove knows that she doesn't believe her, but she's grateful that Glimmer doesn't press it.

* * *

The unfortunate thing about Monday, other than the fact that it's Monday, is student council. Clove isn't a part of it, but Glimmer is, meaning that Clove is stranded at the school until Glimmer can drive her home.

She's currently camped out in the school library, poring over her AP psychology textbook and trying her best to focus on the notes she's supposed to be taking for homework. Unfortunately, some obnoxious pack of freshmen has decided to take up residence at the tables beside hers, and are screaming about something she definitely doesn't care about.

She's only barely restraining herself from strangling every single one of them when she senses somebody approaching her table. She braces herself for it to be one of the freshmen, but is pleasantly surprised to see that it's not. It's a boy, probably her age or a little bit younger, with a firm, stocky build and pale blond hair that falls slightly into blue eyes. He kind of looks like—

"Hi. I'm, uh, I'm Peeta," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. _Right_. Exactly how Delly described him.

Clove raises her eyebrows at him, confused. "Okay?"

He clears his throat. "Well, it's a little bit chaotic over here," he says, glancing over at the freshmen. "I have a quieter table on the other side of the library, if you want to come work there instead. You don't have to! Obviously. But... just in case. Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

God, this kid's awkward. But it's somewhat endearing, and Clove finds herself smiling at him. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

He nods and waits for her to gather her belongings before leading her away from the pack of mini-demons. Sure enough, he _has_ found another table toward the other side, much quieter than the zoo where Clove was moments ago. She files into the seat across from where he has his own study materials laid out, opening her textbook as he slides into his chair.

"So, you know Delly?" says Clove after a few moments, not looking up from her work.

"Y-yeah. You do, too?" says Peeta, seeming surprised that she spoke to him.

She nods, tapping her pen against her lips before looking up at him. "Yeah, we're part of the same gymnastics club. She told me about you the other day. You guys dating or something?"

"Oh! No!" protests Peeta, his face growing pink as he shakes his head vehemently. "Definitely not. No, Delly's awesome, but we definitely aren't anything more than friends. I, uh... I like someone else. Anyway. Here. At... at Panem."

Clove considers mentioning Katniss, but decides against it. Peeta's been kind to her today, and while she'd love to see him squirm a bit, she feels as though it would be a bit rude. And so she keeps her mouth shut and decides not to ask.

Eventually Glimmer finds Clove in the library, introducing herself to Peeta in her typical sunny fashion. Clove says goodbye and thanks him for the table before she and Glimmer make their way out of the library.

"Oh, he's just the _cutest!_ " Glimmer gushes as they cross the parking lot to her car. "If Katniss doesn't end up dating him, I'll die."

"Melodramatic, Glim."

"I'm serious!"

Clove shakes her head as she climbs into Glimmer's car. She still doesn't see Katniss choosing Peeta. They're just too different. Besides, she's learning lately that unrequited feelings are just about the least awesome thing in the world.

* * *

 **Yay, even more Clato! Now, do we _really_ think Clove's feelings are all that unrequited? Could there be a bit of a scandal within the Glato relationship? Time will tell, I suppose...**

 **Anyway. I've been on a total kick. I already have like, four or five more chapters ready to publish, and I'm so excited.**

 **As usual, leave a review and let me know what you thought! See you all next time :)**


	6. Confessions

Clove was fourteen when her mother died. Lung cancer. Smoking kills, apparently.

The ironic part was that Clove's mother hadn't smoked a cigarette in over twenty years. But disease always finds a way, and that's what happened. They thought she was going to make it, but after a month or so of smooth sailing, things escalated and became fatal. Nothing the doctors could do.

Her mother was a great person. Clove was always close with her, something that seemed fairly uncommon considering the fact that she was a teenager at the time. They shared the same love of psychology, and music from the 1950s–1960s, and Clove could talk to her mother about anything, any time. Even Clove's father was okay back then—a bit of a distant asshole, but decent nonetheless.

But after the death of her mother, her father took a turn for the worst. He drowned himself in alcohol, _a_ _sign of grief,_ according to every website and psychologist ever. Clove accepted it for a while, but eventually she began to realize that his drinking habit had become much more than just a coping mechanism. It had become an addiction, impossible to shake.

So, between her mother's lung cancer-induced death and her father's blatant alcoholism ever since, Clove has sworn herself off of smoking and drinking. Call her lame, but she's learned her lesson. She doesn't want to end up like either of her parents.

And that's how she finds herself sipping Sprite out of a solo cup on Friday night, crammed into Marvel's house with over a hundred other kids dancing their hearts out as some rap song with heavy bass thumps out from the speakers. It's the first party of the year, and everybody is here. Even some of the freshmen from the football and cheerleading teams have showed up.

Clove, contrary to what others may assume, actually enjoys parties. The fact that she doesn't drink adds a whole new entertainment factor as well, because she gets to watch as everybody else becomes progressively crazier and more drunk as the night goes on. Like Glimmer, for example, the biggest lightweight Clove knows.

Her friend is currently trapping Clove against her side, a tanned arm slung tightly around Clove's shoulder as she forcefully sways with her.

"Oh my god, I _love_ this song!" Glimmer slurs, and a few of the people around them cheer.

Clove laughs, gripping Glimmer's wrist. "You literally told me last week that you hate this song."

"Clove, Clove, Clove," says Glimmer, finally releasing her and looking into her eyes. "I am _very_ drunk right now, so we _both_ know I don't mean like, _anything_ I say or do." She hiccups. "So just _let me live!_ " She elaborates on the last sentence by throwing one arm up in the air with a dazed grin, and Clove just about loses it from laughing so hard.

"Seriously, though," says Glimmer. "I _do_ mean this, I _really_ do, Clove. I think Madge's dress is _so_ cute. I _want_ it. Isn't it cute?"

Clove follows her friend's glassy gaze to spot Madge Undersee on the other side of the room, talking to Gale Hawthorne. The dress _is_ cute—strapless, light blue denim with a fitted bodice and flowy skirt. Clove tells Glimmer the dress is cute, and Glimmer nods sagely.

"I'm gonna go say hi to them," Glimmer decides, and Clove shrugs.

"Just don't trip, please," she says, more to herself as Glimmer hobbles across the room in her heels.

Clove shakes her head with an exasperated smile, realizing that her drink is almost gone. She makes her way to the outdoor bar, dodging bodies as she goes. At one point a kid wraps an arm around her shoulder and asks her to dance, but she shrugs him off with a half-assed apology. When she finally makes it to the island on Marvel's stone patio, she's out of breath.

She refills her cup with Sprite, pouring it about halfway. As she's closing the bottle, she senses someone approaching. She turns to see Cato, somehow looking amazing in one of the most plain outfits she's ever seen—literally cargo shorts and a blue Polo.

God, she hates herself.

"How's the party animal?" Cato asks, standing beside her and topping his own drink off, rum and coke. It takes Clove a moment to realize that he's talking about Glimmer.

"Oh, she's fine," Clove says with a dismissive wave of her hand, leaning back against the bar. "She just _had_ to go over and tell Madge how cute her dress is. She's such a sociable drunk."

Cato hums in agreement, mirroring her position and leaning against the bar himself, crossing his ankles. "You look good," he says suddenly, and Clove blinks.

"Oh. Thanks," she says, somewhat awkwardly. She didn't try overly hard tonight, throwing on a pair of denim shorts and tucking a loose, light purple camisole into the waistband. She didn't even curl her hair or anything, simply left it free of its usual braid.

Cato nods at her acknowledgment and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. _Be natural, Clove. It's just_ Cato, _for god's sake._ "You look alright too, I guess," she says, keeping her voice light.

"Just alright?" Cato says, mocking offense. He suddenly leans in, close enough that she can smell some of the alcohol on his breath. "Clove, this is my _best_ Polo. I got _all_ dolled up!"

"Right, right," she says, trying to subtly back away. She doesn't want him getting too comfortable in his buzzed state. "How silly of me. You look _so_ good, Cato."

"That's more like it," he says with an affirmative nod, holding her gaze for another moment before finally leaning away and resuming his earlier position against the bar. "You staying over here tonight?"

Clove nods. "Yeah, I think Glimmer and I are gonna take one of the guest bedrooms. She's obviously too drunk to drive home, I don't have practice tomorrow and my dad doesn't give two shits about what I do, so it makes more sense to just stay."

Cato nods. "Me, too," he says. "Sleepover."

"Sleepover," Clove agrees.

Cato says nothing for a few beats before he finally blurts out something that Clove does _not_ expect to hear.

"I don't think Glimmer loves me."

Clove chokes on her drink, the carbonation burning her throat as it goes down the wrong way. She coughs, her eyes watering, and when she turns to Cato she can see that he's absolutely serious. "What?" she asks incredulously.

Cato shrugs. "I don't think Glimmer loves me," he repeats.

She doesn't really know how to respond to that. It's a total bombshell, completely out of left field. As far as Clove knew, Cato and Glimmer had a very healthy, stable relationship with barely any complications. Nothing that either of them have mentioned anyway, not until now.

"What makes you say that?" she asks tentatively, not sure if she even wants to know the answer.

Again, Cato shrugs, his gaze set straight ahead. His lack of eye contact concerns her. "I don't know. She just doesn't seem as into me anymore. Like, she's always busy when I want to hang out. And this is probably way too much information—but I'm your best friend and I'm legally obligated to tell you everything—but we haven't even had sex since the summer. Something just feels _different._ "

Clove frowns, still trying to process what he's saying. "Do you… do you love _her?_ " she asks, bracing herself for the inevitable, slightly-heartbreaking truth.

Cato doesn't answer her immediately. "Yeah," he says, and her heart drops a bit. But then he backtracks. "Well, I did. Do. No. I don't _know,_ Clove. I loved her a whole lot when we first started out, but like I said, something feels different now. I don't know if what I'm feeling for Glimmer is love anymore. And I'm kinda terrified by that."

Clove nods. "Okay," she says.

"Is that all you're gonna say?" Cato asks, finally turning to face her again. She's caught off-guard by the pain and vulnerability in his eyes. "You're like, a total genius. You're in AP psychology and you're literally going to be a psychologist someday, and that's all you're going to tell me? _Okay?_ "

"Well, I'm sorry that this is the first I'm hearing about this," she snaps, suddenly annoyed. Is he really getting angry with her right now? "I wasn't exactly aware that my two best friends are apparently falling out of love."

Cato sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I know," he groans, defeated. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting upset with you about this. I'm just… I'm kinda out of it right now. Alcohol and whatnot."

"You don't say," says Clove, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. She really just can't bring herself to stay angry with him.

Cato chuckles. "Damn, I probably don't even know what I'm saying right now," he says. "I think I'm more drunk than I thought I was."

"Maybe," says Clove, but she isn't convinced.

Cato nods. "Well, I think I'm gonna go," he says. "I need to kick Finnick's ass in pong. Wanna come watch?"

"I'll be there in a few," she promises. He beams—and boy, does _that_ bring on a whole onslaught of butterflies—before pushing away from the bar, giving her a wave before heading toward the other guys, who cheer when they see him coming.

Once he's safely out of range, Clove lets the smile drop from her face. She's still trying to wrap her brain around what she just heard. Maybe it's true that he's drunk, and maybe it's true that he doesn't know what he's saying, but she can't help but remember the cliché quotation that she's found herself thinking about ever since her father turned to the bottle.

 _Drunk words are sober thoughts._

* * *

After the party has died down and people have finally left, Clove finds herself cleaning up, picking crushed solo cups and empty bottles from the ground and from sticky surfaces. She's used to this type of cleanup.

Marvel is the least buzzed of the other three, so he's helping her as well. She wonders if he knows anything about what Cato told her not even two hours ago, but doesn't want to ask for fear of revealing something that she shouldn't. She fleetingly wonders what Glimmer and Cato are up to inside—if they're talking to each other, or on opposite sides of the house. She isn't sure which scenario would be better.

"I think this party was a success," says Marvel, holding a trash bag open for Clove to toss a cup into.

Clove nods, reaching for another cup. "Seems like it," she says. "I've never seen Finnick get so into cup pong before."

"I've never seen him that drunk before."

Clove snorts. "Oh, I know. Did you see Annie? She literally wanted to die the entire time."

Marvel laughs at that. "Oh my god, seriously. It must but fun for you, being like, the only sober one around."

Clove shrugs, chuckling. "You aren't wrong," she says. "I've got _so_ many secrets and blackmail fodder, you have no idea."

"That is absolutely terrifying to hear, thanks."

Once they've finished cleaning up the yard, they meander inside. After finding Glimmer and Cato, who are sitting on opposite sides of the couch and _very_ awkwardly quiet, the four decide that they're just too tired to do anything other than sleep. The boys head to Marvel's room, Cato volunteering to sleep on the floor, and Glimmer and Clove make their way to one of the many guest bedrooms just down the hall from Marvel's.

"Thanks for being my friend," Glimmer says tiredly as Clove helps take off her makeup. "I don't know anyone else who would help me get ready for bed when I'm drunk like this. You're a real one."

Clove laughs a little, playfully patting Glimmer's cheek. "It's what I'm here for," she says, standing up to change into a more comfortable tank top and athletic shorts, her go-to pajamas.

Glimmer hums appreciatively, standing on unsteady legs to change into her own pajamas as well. They're just settling into the queen bed when Glimmer speaks up.

"I have a secret."

Clove's arm freezes halfway to the bedside lamp. "Oh?" she says carefully. Could this be similar to what Cato told her?

"Yeah," says Glimmer. When Clove looks to her, she's lying on her back, hands folded over her stomach as she stares up at the ceiling. "It's just… I think…" she trails off, as if she's trying to decide how to word whatever it is that she wants to say. But instead she sighs, shaking her head. "You know what? Never mind," she says. "It's stupid."

Clove frowns and purses her lips. She wants to know what it is that Glimmer was going to tell her, but also knows not to pressure her into saying anything she isn't ready to. And so she turns off the light and slips further under the covers, pulling them up under her chin and turning to lie on her side. "Okay," she says.

She's met with silence, save for the steady rhythm of Glimmer's light snoring.

* * *

 **And the plot thickens! Didn't I tell you that the drama was coming?**

 **What do we think of Cato's big reveal? And Glimmer's supposed secret? What does this mean for the other relationships in the story?**

 **Anyway. I feel like I haven't shown nearly enough Marvel yet, so hopefully I'll be able to add him in some more since he and Clove are totally my brotp. I tried to add a bit of it in this chapter, but the central focus needed to be the growing turmoil in Glimmer and Cato's relationship. But I promise, more Marvel coming soon!**

 **Don't forget to review! Reviews bring me happiness and motivation.**

 **P.S. To close off this painfully-long AN, I created an ongoing Spotify playlist for this story if you want to check it out! My username is** _rxses__ **and the playlist is titled "why don't you stay with me?" It's songs that I feel are fitting to the plot, or that'll be featured in the story, or both. So yeah, give it a listen if you want! It's a work in progress, so if you have any song suggestions of your own, feel free to send them this way!**


	7. No Rest for the Wicked

At 2:43 in the morning, Clove is still awake.

It isn't her fault, or her choice. Her mind just won't stop racing. One of those nights, she supposes. Between Cato's full-on confession and Glimmer's almost-confession, she doesn't even know _what_ to think anymore.

She's suddenly aware of just how dry her mouth has become. Glancing over at Glimmer, sound asleep, Clove carefully slides out of the bed and pads across the hardwood flooring, opening the door as silently as possible and slipping out into the hallway. When she begins down the stairs, though, she can see a faint, flickering blue light coming from the living room. Somebody is watching TV.

She assumes it's one of the boys; Marvel's parents are away on business and Glimmer is still asleep. If it's not one of the boys, though, there's the possibility that it's a serial killer. Clove doesn't want to take any chances, so her first stop is the kitchen. She walks past the living room as silently as possible, entering the kitchen and trying to peer inside. With a sigh of relief, she sees that it's Cato, sprawled on the couch with his hair sticking out in every direction, unstyled after lying down for so long.

She pours herself a glass of water and decides to join him, stepping through the second entrance to the living room so that she's facing him head-on. He breaks his gaze from the TV to focus on her, and he smiles tiredly.

"Hey," he says, voice raspy.

She smiles. "Hey," she echoes. "That spot taken?"

Cato shakes his head, sliding to the right and patting the space beside him. Clove takes the spot, bringing her legs up and letting them rest sideways underneath her. Without speaking, Cato takes half of the soft, oversized blanket he's using and places it over her. She thanks him quietly, and he nods in acknowledgment.

For a while they sit in silence, watching reruns of _That '70s Show._ It's an episode that Clove hasn't seen before, and she finds herself laughing every now and then. She decides to speak up once they hit a commercial break. "So what's up?" she asks, not taking her eyes away from the TV. "Can't sleep?"

Cato sighs, and she sees him shake his head from the corner of her eye. "Not at all," he admits. "Unfortunately, I remember every last bit of our conversation from earlier. Apparently I _wasn't_ as drunk as I thought I was."

Clove says nothing. An infomercial for some granite skillet has come on. She pretends to be interested in it until the commercial ends, then speaks again. "So what are you gonna do?" she asks.

"I don't know."

She nods, taking another sip of her water before placing it back on the coffee table before her. "Well," she says, this time turning to face him. With a start, she realizes that he's already looking at her. "I think you should have an honest talk with her. Just… don't come out with guns blazing or anything. Ask if she's been feeling okay lately, express some concern. You'll never know if you don't try."

Cato groans and leans back, so that his entire back and head are resting against the couch. She follows suit, and this time when they turn to look at each other, their faces are dangerously close. Neither make an effort to move.

"I'm just nervous, I guess," says Cato, his eyes darting around her features.

Clove nods. "I get that," she says.

"No," he says. "Not… not for the reason you're thinking. Not completely, anyway."

"Then why?" she asks, her voice surprisingly breathless. She can't help but glance down at his lips because _oh god they're_ right _there,_ and is he leaning in too or is she just imagining it?

Nope, he's definitely leaning in. He's looking at her lips too and _oh no this is wrong this is so so wrong_ and suddenly his breath is fanning over her face and he's _so close to her_ before she suddenly blinks and clears her throat, the spell broken as she sits up straight. She pretends that she can't hear Cato's sigh, instead occupying herself with taking another sip from her water. She presses a hand to her forehead and shakes her head. Did she really almost kiss Cato? Did Cato really almost kiss _her?_

Not good. So not good.

Again she clears her throat, deciding to take the _act natural_ route again. She leans back against the couch and focuses intently on the TV, the show coming back on. Cato seems to be doing the same, though she can see his hands clenching and unclenching.

"I'm sor—" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"It's fine," she says quickly. "You've… you've still got some alcohol in your system. You aren't thinking straight. It's fine."

She chooses not to include the fact that a human liver can process one drink per hour, and that Cato had maybe three drinks in two or three hours, and that was about three hours ago, so really there's no way it's affecting his thought process.

Cato nods and swallows. "Yeah," he mumbles, and Clove squeezes her eyes shut in frustration. This can _not_ be happening.

She's suddenly aware, though, of just how heavy her eyelids have become. She's exhausted, both physically and mentally, and can feel herself drifting off to sleep already. The next thing she knows, her eyes are sliding shut and she's drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Oh, shit."

Clove's eyes open slowly, the morning sunlight blinding her slightly. She squints, blinking a few times and trying to gain her bearings. She inhales sharply when she realizes that she's fallen asleep _on Cato,_ the side of her face on his shoulder and her hands pressed against his side. Worst of all, his arm somehow found its way to the back of the couch, practically around her shoulders, with his own head resting on top of her own.

Immediately she bolts away, as if she's been burned. Her sharp actions wake Cato, who blinks confusedly. When he sees her, he smiles lazily, stretching his arms up over his head and yawning.

"Well, that was adorable," says Marvel, standing in front of them with his arm crossed and a mischievous grin on his face. "Really, super cute. You're lucky I didn't take any photos, otherwise I'd have blackmail for _life._ "

Clove groans and sits up straight, rubbing at her eyes. "We just fell asleep, Marvel," she says.

He scoffs. "Yeah, _on top of each other._ Jeez, you're even luckier that Glimmer isn't awake yet."

The mention of Glimmer has memories flooding back into Clove's mind, of Glimmer's and Cato's confessions, of almost kissing Cato. God, this is so fucked up. When she turns to look at Cato he's already staring at her, something unreadable in his blue eyes. They maintain eye contact for three beats before Cato clears his throat and turns away, Clove doing the same.

"What's for breakfast?" asks Cato, blatantly changing the subject.

Marvel stares at his friend, his mind obviously whirring. They seem to be having a silent conversation until Marvel finally breaks it, looking Clove in the eyes. "I don't know. I was thinking Clove and I could take a ride, grab Starbucks for everyone."

The way he speaks makes Clove believe that there's _definitely_ a hidden meaning. She knows that Marvel's a lot smarter than he acts, and is afraid that he's definitely caught onto something that he shouldn't have.

Still, she sighs. "Yeah, that sounds good. Just let me change."

Marvel nods, and she practically leaps out of the couch and flies up the stairs, all too eager to remove herself from the awkward situation.

* * *

They've barely been on the road for two minutes before Marvel opens his mouth.

"You seriously have some explaining to do."

Clove groans and leans back, wishing for all the world that she could shrink into the leather and disappear completely. "I don't know what you want me to say," she admits.

"Well, you could start with admitting to me that you're totally in love with Cato."

She can feel her face heating up, whipping around to face Marvel. "I'm not!" she says. "Do you realize how dumb you sound? He's dating _Glimmer,_ for god's sake."

"Are you implying that you can't like Cato _just_ because he's dating your friend?"

"No. Yes! I don't know."

Marvel chuckles, turning on his right directional as they come to a stoplight. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, Clo," he says. "You can't help your feelings, you know? In all honesty, I think it was bound to happen eventually."

Clove opts for silence, crossing her arms and staring out the window. The sky is overcast, and she wonders if it might rain later.

"For what it's worth, I think he might like you, too."

 _That's what I'm afraid of,_ she thinks.

"I doubt it," she says.

Marvel shakes his head. "Look, he told me too, okay? Last night, the whole _Glimmer-doesn't-love-me_ thing. They may seem perfect on the outside, but I think both of them are just harboring these bottled-up feelings of being trapped in a relationship that they don't even want to be in. But they're both just too afraid to admit it. They're probably scared of ruining the group, or something."

Clove stares at Marvel for a moment, her mouth slightly agape. "Remind me why you aren't taking psychology with me this year."

Marvel turns to face her, grinning. "They simply wouldn't be able to handle my genius," he says. Clove whacks his shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, and he laughs. "I'm serious though. I think that whole relationship is on borrowed time."

Clove purses her lips. "Maybe," she says. "But what do we do about it, then? Just let them completely implode?"

Marvel is quiet for a moment, likely choosing his words carefully. "I think so," he says. "I mean, there's only so much we can do for them. They need to figure it out themselves, you know? They'll probably get hurt in the process, and all you and I can do is be there for them when they do."

Clove nods, chewing on her bottom lip. She stays quiet for a minute before blurting out, "Do you think I'm a rebound?"

"Well, they haven't broken up yet."

"Cato almost kissed me last night."

"Oh, fuck."

Clove leans forward, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I know," she says. "I mean, I almost kissed him, too, but he was all like _oh, I'm nervous,_ and I was like _yeah, I get it,_ but then he goes _not about that, though,_ and at that point I was confused, and then he started leaning in and he was _right there_ and then I did, too, and oh my god, Marvel, I'm a terrible friend."

"Dude, slow down," says Marvel, pulling into the Starbucks parking lot and turning his car off. He unbuckles his seat belt and turns to face her fully. "Just… just take a deep breath. Oh my god, are you… are you _crying?_ "

"No!" she says, bringing her face up to meet his. It's true; she isn't crying, but hell if she doesn't want to. "I'm just… stressed! I'm so fucking stressed."

Marvel snorts. "I'd say you have reason to be. This is all kinds of fucked up."

"You're telling me."

He sighs, glancing left and right before looking at her again. "Okay. Well, we're just going to move on for now, alright? We're gonna walk into this Starbucks and order a whole bunch of overpriced coffee and bagels, and then we're gonna leave and go back to my house and eat breakfast with our friends as though you _aren't_ tangled up in the love triangle of the century. Sound good?"

Clove takes a deep breath and then nods. "Sounds perfect."

"Alright, then. Let's move."

* * *

 **Ah! The feels, they're here! What the heck is going to happen next?**

 **Things are really picking up now. Didn't I tell you they would? Climax is definitely coming _very_ soon. I'd give it about two or three more chapters, if I'm being honest, but who knows?**

 **Anyway, see you guys next time! Don't forget to review!**


	8. Aftermaths

Strangely enough, things _aren't_ awkward between anybody. Like, at all. In fact, Cato and Glimmer seem to be in better shape than ever, seemingly back in their honeymoon phase.

It's safe to say that Clove is confused.

She catches Marvel's eye at lunch on Monday and he's already frowning—clearly as confused as she is—while Cato steals a strawberry from Glimmer and she squeals before kissing him on the cheek.

Worse, Cato has barely even spoken to her since the incident. They had all eaten breakfast together in Marvel's living room, and the two of them sat as far away from each other as possible until it was time to leave, in which case Glimmer was Clove's ride home. And then this morning, he only graced her with a mumbled _Hey_ and that was the end of it. In all honesty, Clove's a bit peeved. It isn't _her_ fault that he can't seem to make up his mind.

Honestly, she thinks they both just feel guilty. She got a full confession from Cato and an almost-confession from Glimmer, and it's probably on both of their minds. So they're trying to compensate for that by being all gross and over-the-top lovey-dovey with each other. It's vomit-inducing, truly.

Once again she finds herself stabbing aggressively into her salad, but today, nobody is stupid enough to disturb her.

* * *

The only good thing in her life right now is gymnastics, but even that seems to be testing her today after she fails to stick the landing of her floor routine—for the second time in a row.

"Again, Clove," Enobaria snaps. Clove may be one of her favorites, but that's also because she rarely ever fails, unlike today. She isn't exactly living up to her _star student_ reputation right now.

She slaps her palm against the mat in frustration before standing up and preparing to try again. She can't believe she's letting this whole situation get to her like this. Usually when she's at practice, she's able to clear her mind of everything that's wrong. But the Cato Dilemma, as she has _endearingly_ coined it, just seems to be shaking her completely. And she's upset.

 _Clear your mind, Clove. Screw that stupid boy. He's stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Once she's in position Delly starts the music again. Clove takes a deep breath, bringing her arms up elegantly as the music fades in, then letting them fall sharply as the beat drops. And then she's running, running, running as the tempo kicks up, inhaling before throwing herself into the front handspring that begins her routine.

This time she flies through the choreography with no struggle at all, twisting and turning and soaring through the air in complicated maneuvers that fall into sync with the music coming from the old CD player that Enobaria's had since the '90s. By the time she's nearing the end she feels great, no doubt in her mind that she'll stick her landing as she finishes a dance move and then flings herself into a roundoff-back handspring combo. And, just like she predicted, she lands it perfectly.

She plasters her best, competition-winning smile on her face and brings her arms up, finally exhaling as the girls around her burst into applause and cheers.

"Atta girl, Clove," calls Enobaria. "That's more like it!"

Clove's grin widens, and she trots off the mat toward where the bags are laid out. She's absolutely parched, and has an entire 34-ounce water bottle with her name on it. As per usual, she's joined by Delly, who sinks to the ground beside her. "You okay?"

Clove takes a swig from her water before turning to the other girl, frowning slightly. "Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

Delly narrows her eyes slightly. "You haven't missed a combo like that in _months._ I feel like it's pretty telling that you did today."

Clove sighs and shrugs. "I don't know. It's just some pointless high school drama. Nothing I can't handle."

Delly nods, not seeming quite convinced, but decides to move on. "Well, it can't be as bad as Peeta. He told me that he's got a crush on this girl, and he thinks she might like him too, but she also seems to have a thing for some senior guy."

"Katniss and Gale," supplies Clove. "Yeah, I've heard about that whole fiasco."

"Ugh, I can't imagine being in a love triangle. How cliché!"

Clove begins to laugh along with Delly, but it dies in her throat. She takes another sip of water to cover it up, and it suddenly hits her that _oh, shit,_ she's totally in a love triangle too, isn't she? The one trope in books and media that she hates most in the world!

Oh, god.

"Yeah, must suck," she agrees with Delly, trying to play it off casually. Internally, she is screaming. "Come on, let's get back to it. Enobaria will be getting impatient soon."

* * *

Her father gets home about an hour after Clove's teammate, Marina, drops her off.

She's sitting on the worn leather couch when he hobbles through the door and into the living room, work clothes dirty from a day at the quarry a few towns away. "Hi," he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his stubble and his tired eyes.

"Hi," Clove replies, not looking up from her homework. In the background, a stupid MTV reality show plays on the television.

Her father sniffs and meanders into the kitchen. The telltale sound of the fridge opening causes Clove to roll her eyes, bottles rattling against each other and filling the house with their noise. Clove debates leaving her spot and retreating to her room, but something makes her stay. She's just comfortable right now, and she's afraid that if she breaks her momentum with her homework now, she'll never be able to regain her focus.

Moments later her father returns, sinking gracelessly into the reclining chair diagonal from the couch. "What's this shit?" he asks, taking a swig from his first beer and gesturing to the TV.

"Nothing," says Clove. "Just some stupid show that happened to be on."

"Put on the sports channel."

"Why?"

"Because I want to watch it."

Clove rolls her eyes, but obliges nonetheless. She's not in the mood for an argument tonight. She's almost done with her homework now, so if she can just block out the TV and her father for another fifteen or twenty minutes, she should be good.

Her father somehow ends up passing out within the time it takes for her to finish, a now-empty bottle clutched loosely in the hand that dangles over the arm of the recliner. Clove scoffs, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she gathers her belongings and makes her way upstairs, slipping into her room and gently closing the door behind her.

Scrolling through her phone, she searches her settings and connects it to the speaker that she keeps on her nightstand. She shuffles her most recent playlist before placing her phone face-down on the nightstand and searching for pajamas.

 _"Ain't never felt this way,"_ she murmurs along with the music, rummaging through a drawer and producing an old t-shirt from a gymnastics meet last year. _"Can't get enough, so stay with me…"_

Once she's fully dressed in her comfortable clothes, she flops onto her bed and grabs her phone, scrolling through social media for a bit until her screen pauses and changes to a rather unflattering close-up photo of Marvel, who's apparently trying to video call her. Yawning, she presses the green _answer_ button and waits for his real-time face to appear.

"Hello," she says, raising her eyebrows when he finally appears with a wave. He's brushing his teeth, his phone propped against the mirror in his bathroom. He holds up his finger for a moment before leaning over the sink, spitting and rinsing. Clove wrinkles her nose. "You seriously couldn't have waited to call me until _after_ you did that?"

He pops back up with a frothy grin, wiping his mouth on the nearest monogrammed towel before reaching for his phone and making his way back into his own room. "Nah. Thought you might be interested to see what it's like for someone as awesome as me to get ready for bed."

"Yeah, okay."

She lets him get settled for a moment, and once he's comfortable he finally speaks. "So, uh, Glimmer and Cato are pissing me off."

Clove half-laughs at her friend's bluntness, covering her mouth with her hand before removing it to reply. "I mean, I guess. Why, specifically, would you say that?"

"They're a puke-fest, man!" Marvel exclaims, eyes wide as he brings the screen comically close to his face. "God. Here I was thinking they'd _finally_ break up, and now they're back to all that nasty, mushy shit? Something is _not_ adding up."

Clove shrugs. "Maybe they just had really awesome makeup sex?"

Marvel groans. "Ew, Clove. No. I would know if Cato got laid, and believe me, he didn't."

She's annoyed with herself for feeling almost-relieved at this.

"Well then I don't know," she says. "I was thinking earlier that they probably both just feel guilty about their own thoughts on the other and their relationship in general. And now they're just overcompensating for the guilt by acting all gross."

Marvel nods in agreement, but still wrinkles his nose. "You're probably right, but still. I was kinda hoping for a falling out."

"Why?" asks Clove, shaking her head. "Wouldn't that just be kinda terrible for everyone? Tension, and stuff."

"Yeah, but then everyone would get over it because we're all great friends, and you and Cato could start dating and everything will be fine."

Clove feels her face redden. "Marvel, that's awful! I couldn't date Cato if they broke up, even if I wanted to."

"Don't you want to?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

She hesitates. "Yes?"

Marvel shakes his head and _tsk_ s. "Oh, Clover. You really need to face the music."

Clove sighs. "Marvel, you know where I stand with the whole _Cato_ thing. I wouldn't… _mind_ being with him, but it would be super shitty for me to _root_ for him and Glimmer to break up, and even _shittier_ for me to get together with him if they do break up. Because then it's just the Girl Code and that whole mess. It'll never work out."

Marvel sighs. "Yeah, I know. Man, complications suck."

Clove laughs, a bit humorlessly. "Yeah, almost as bad as feelings do."

He shoots her a sympathetic look. "That's why you gotta be like me," he says. "Super cool, charming, _suave._ Get _all_ the girls—or, I guess guys in your case, since I'm pretty sure you're straight—to _love_ me, but never go for them. Break all of their hearts!"

Clove openly laughs at that. "You're delusional, Marv. Completely delusional. Besides," she says, tilting her head mischievously, "I've caught you staring at Jackie Finch. I think _you_ might have a little crush, too."

Marvel scoffs. Twice. Nervously. "Pfft. No way. I don't _get_ crushes. Regardless of how many cute redheads just _happen_ to fall into my line of vision."

Clove raises her eyebrows and hums. "I'd be careful, Marvel," she sing-songs. "She's Cato's big rival for salutatorian. I think they actually have the same GPA and he's super stressed about it. You can't be fraternizing with the enemy."

"I will fraternize with _whoever_ I so choose," says Marvel with fake haughtiness. "Not that I even want to fraternize with her, anyway," he adds quickly.

Clove rolls her eyes. "Okay, Marvel. I'm tired, so I'm hanging up on you and your _nonexistent_ feelings. It's probably good that you don't like Jackie, anyway. I heard Thresh talking about asking her to homecoming at lunch earlier."

"Wait, what!"

"Goodnight!"

"Wait, Clo—"

She hangs up before his inevitable yelp of indignation, smiling to herself proudly. If messing with people was a profession, she'd be a millionaire already.

* * *

 **Aw, Marvel ships Clato.**

 **Fun fact, I originally had a Big Thing happening in this chapter, that would kick off various other B** **ig Things, but I'm gonna make you wait for that, I think. I want to build up some more plot and suspense first, you know? Don't hate me :)**

 **Also, it's probably painfully obvious, but I know absolutely nothing about gymnastics.**


End file.
